Perpetual Motion
by AkitaFallow
Summary: He would give up everything, if only to see his little brother's smile again. After all, Al was his reason for living. Without Al, he would be nothing. If Al wasn't there... He'd go mad. Oneshot


**Disclaimer****: I do not own. **

**Warnings****: Angst. Lots of it.**

**A/N****: It seems to be a slight deviation from my usual style, but I've been delving more and more into abstract concepts and darker ideas recently. And if I confuse you, I've done my job.  
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* * *

"Al?"

Silence.

"Alphonse?"

Only the soft chirrup of crickets outside the window.

"I'm sorry..."

Golden orbs flicked from their vigilant perusal of the roof. Flicked from the solid barrier between him and the sky, and settled on the meaning of life, the purpose for living, the reason for every breath he took.

His brother.

Ed felt a pang in his heart as Al kept his head turned away from him, not deigning him worthy to speak to.

"Al, please believe me..." he begged, sitting up slowly. There was a pang in his chest as he moved, but he ignored it.

Alphonse remained stoic, staring at the door as if it were the last thing on earth to set his eyes on. Ed could tell that forgiveness was not forthcoming.

"I made a promise to you, Al... And I'm going to keep it, okay? We're going to get your body back. No matter what." His voice cracked slightly, and something in his throat hitched. It felt strange to breathe—like half of his lungs were missing. But he had to tell him—had to make him believe that he was still the first and only thing Ed thought of, the purpose for his continued existence—

"I know you're mad, and I know I've messed up a lot, but you have to believe me—"

He made to reach a hand towards the other, to gain his attention, but there was a pulling of the skin across his torso, and he pulled back with a slight cry as pain lanced through his chest.

But pain was secondary, pain was unimportant—pain was a vestigial awareness that had no place in his mind. A mind that was now focussed entirely on gaining forgiveness that may or may not come.

"Al, please—"

The first step was shaky at best, but it was when he brought his second foot to the floor that he pitched backwards with another cry, this one louder, as agony shot its way up through his body to his heart, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was not going to make it past the first few feet of flooring if he tried.

His breath hitched again as he fell back onto the mattress, refusing to take his eyes from his brother's form, even as another stab of pain made its way into his chest.

"A-Al, you have to... believe me..." he panted.

Alphonse was silent, and he knew that his little brother was still angry at him. Al must know that everything was Ed's fault. This pain he felt now, the pain both of them always felt—and, most of all, the lack of pain that signified the unfeeling shell that he'd confined his beloved brother into.

"I don't care if you hate me... but I'll never stop trying, and one day you'll be back to normal," he whispered, finally lying back on the mattress with a shiver. His eyes stayed fixed on the form of his brother, brooding in the corner, as he drew the blankets up to his chin, ignoring the subtle prickling of pain they caused as they ghosted over his body. Tiredness began to weigh down his eyes, but he did not let them close. Not yet.

Tomorrow, he would try again. Al would believe him. He _had _to.

And even if he didn't, Ed would make sure he fulfilled his promise. Because even though he'd failed so many times in the past, he would not fail in this. No matter how long it took or what sacrifices had to be made.

"I'm sorry, Al..."

Sorry for all of his failures. Sorry for not always being there. Sorry for making his brother wait this long. Sorry for everything.

He didn't expect forgiveness. All he wanted was for Alphonse to realize that he was still trying, that he was still determined to regain what they had lost. He would give up everything, if only to see his little brother's smile again.

After all, Al was his reason for living. Without Al, he would be nothing. If Al wasn't there...

He'd go mad.

* * *

She watched as the small teenager curled himself into a tighter ball, gaze fixed and vacant. She watched as his golden eyes finally closed in defeat. She watched as his breathing slowly settled into the hitched gasps that were his sleeping state now.

And she felt the ever-present tears run down her face as she watched the absolute stillness of the armour in the corner, her eyes trained on the helmet as if she could see straight through it to the small red smear that was all that remained of a blood seal. One which no longer housed a soul.

And with those tears tracking down her face, she stepped away from the room, easing the door shut behind her. She gave a tiny nod to the small, elderly woman behind her, before wiping the tears from her face. The woman nodded in reply and, with a small medical bag in hand, made her way into the room.

The room that, now, held only the broken shell of what used to be a boy, a husk of armour that he refused to let them take away, and memories that had no place in this future, but had taken it over just the same.

With one final swipe at her eyes, Winry Rockbell made her way to the kitchen to prepare for the repeating pattern to begin again, the perpetual motion they had settled into since his return. To prepare for another identical day, another attempt to salvage what was no longer there.

Because she knew that for this, there was no cure. No cure for either of those shattered souls.

_**Fin**_**.**


End file.
